Petrified Mirk
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Fire is dancing on the walls of the capitol
Frescoes of the saints are breathing life
Dust flies down from folio and whirls in dance
Everything is waiting for his coming...
And so he comes from the gloomy cellars of church
He's wearing his his cassock and starting to pray
But words are not enough to express the respect
He rises from his knees and creeps back to his lair
While coming down the stairs he hums motive from liturgy
Finally he came to place and opens putrid door
He enters his realm and lights the candles
And slowly he starts to examine his fold
Here in the deepest cellar of the
cathedral in the rusty cages are closed
Fear children and women that he had
caught late at night after his prays
They're weak and they're stinking
They cry and they hope
But no one can hear their call
Patriarch gets naked and takes his censer
He dances and touching his fallos
At last with sensual moan he cums on the floor
And a smile slowly disappears from his lips
He waits more, much more pleasure
He blows out the candles,
opens the cage and the mirk petrified on his face...